Time and Again
by MaryChristmas
Summary: My very firstest LOTR Fic. Summary? uh well, it's slightly AU and a crossover, Basically Frodo is swept overboard the ship on the way to the Grey Havens, and when Gandalf tries to save him both are transported to this world at different periods in time.
1. Prologue

  
A/N: this is my very first LOTR fic, so be gentle. Not that I mind flaming, cause I don't. If you don't like the story tell me in any way you want. I don't live for reviews, I just post my stuff because I can, and hopefully someone will get some enjoyment from what I write.  
  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything but the plot idea, and there may be a couple of original characters in here somewhere.  
  
SUMMARY: Slightly AU...Basically Frodo is swept overboard the ship to the Grey Havens, and Gandolf jumps in to save him. They both are pushed through a dimensional portal to this world, only at different points on the timeline. Not enough I know, but I don't know what else to say that wouldn't give the entire plot away. Oh yeah, its a crossover too, but I don't know how many people will recognize the show.  
  
  
  
PROLOGUE  
  
Portals on the sea:  
  
The first few days of the journey across the sea was uneventful and boring. At least to Frodo, who didn't mind in the least. He was able to rest, to clear his mind and heart of some of the troubles he faced. He spoke often with Bilbo and Gandalf of nothing and of everything. The kind of talk that stimulates the brain, and seems to give physical satisfaction as well. Frodo had nearly put everything that had happened behind him, though his shoulder still pained him, and he still felt a cold chill once in a while. The peace would not last for long.  
  
During the second week of the journey, Frodo stood on the deck of the ship, marveling at the wide expanse of the calm grey waters of the sea. He walked over to the rail and looked over it into the water. He could see fish and other creatures swimming, all with a peaceful harmony. This was part of a ritual he did every day. He would wake up in the morning, spend most of the morning whiling away the hours speaking with his friends. Then he would go above and walk around the deck, enjoying the feel of the wind in his hair. Then finally he would go to the side of the ship and look out at the sea.  
  
So caught up in this daily ritual was he, that he did not notice when dark clouds covered the sun. Clouds often did this, so he thought nothing unusual about that. Nor did he notice the rain, it often did this too. It wasn't until the wind picked up, and a crash of thunder was heard, that he realized that something just might be wrong. Too late, he turned to go back below, and he was swept overboard as a massive wave towered over the side of the ship and grabbed at anything it could take with it to the depths. Frodo instinctively held his breath, even as his visions of his parents' boat turning over flashed before his eyes. He swam until his head came up above the top of the water, and gasped for air, only to have to hold his breath again as another wave crashed over his head. Vaguely, he wondered what the shape floating beside him was. Then the thing grabbed him and he began to struggle before he realized it was only Gandalf, and relaxed. The wizard was pulling them both towards safety, when a strange light appeared in front of them. Gandalf's hold was shaken from Frodo when the light engulfed them, and they both knew no more.  
  
Earth late 21st century:  
  
"Beth! That's enough now, stop crying," Calista Lestrade commanded her four year old daughter, which of course only made the child cry all the harder.   
  
Calista sighed in exasperation, glad to be rid of the girl if only for the summer, regardless of who she was leaving her with. She hated her father in-law with a passion, and didn't want him to have the satisfaction of raising his granddaughter. He had actually told her she couldn't marry his son. Her, the daughter of the richest man in America, was refused what she wanted. And she had wanted Thomas Lestrade. He was dark and mysterious, and he was a cop from England. He would never give up his job for anyone, leaving her free to do what she wished, without answering to anyone. She had used all her feminine wiles, and he had fallen head over heels, just like every other man she had known, and her plans were all set, only to be ruined by this strange man.  
  
The first time Thomas had brought her home and she had met Micheal Lestrade, she had thought he was just like everyone else. That mistake was brought home quickly, when, the first time he looked at her it seemed that he saw straight to her very core. Obviously what he found was lacking, and he dismissed her out of hand, in a kind manner. Thomas always obeyed his father, and had agreed that they wouldn't be getting married. So, Calista had done what she did best, manipulate. Micheal was old fashioned, so she used that against him and got pregnant. He saw through that too, but his ideals were too strong, and he had insisted she and Thomas get married, thereby giving her what she wanted.  
  
Only, it hadn't worked out the way she had planned. Thomas had expected her to stay home with the baby, and to be a general housewife. They got into a huge row about that, until finally they compromised. She would do as he said, as long as they could live in America, and never see Tom's father again. Thomas had reluctantly agreed, even though he knew it would break his father's heart not to see his grandchild ever. However, the child's welfare was more important. When Beth had been born, she had been the apple of her father's eye, which was just fine as far as Calista was concerned. He left her alone to do what she wanted, while he was home. Then four years later, the stupid man got killed in a hovercar chase, so she was left with the little girl and a trip with friends coming up soon.  
  
Calista turned with a sneer to the child sitting next to her in the luxurious hoverlimo. Beth was still sniffling, and her eyes were red and swolen. The major reason Calista hated the girl was because of her eyes. They held that wise, all knowing look her grandfather had. So she was rather afraid to leave her in the care of her worst enemy. They both might turn on her one day. But, her need for freedom outweighed her fear, and her twisted since of humor was touched by the irony that the old man would only get a taste of what it would be like to be with his granddaughter, only to have her snatched away, never to be seen by him again.  
  
As the limo landed in front of a large two story house in New London, Calista was reminded why she didn't like England. It was raining and cold. She stepped lightly out of the car dragging a reluctant Beth by the hand. Better to get this over with quickly. She walked up to the door and knocked. An aging woman answered the door. Mrs. Humphrey, the house keeper. A sudden fear of being probed by the grey eyes of her father in-law prompted her to let go of Beth's hand and march back to the limo, where she climbed gracefully inside. She looked out the window to call, "I'll be back in September!" Then she signaled the driver to go on.  
  
Beth watched her mommy leave. She didn't understand why Mommy didn't want her, and why she had to stay with some man named Your Grandfather. She wanted to stay with Daddy. She had told Mommy that over and over again, but Mommy ignored her like she usually did, until she finally told her to shut up.  
  
"Oh my, you poor dear. That woman is...well never mind," the lady who had answered the door said. Beth looked up at her, her lips set in a pout.  
  
"Oh my, well, come on in and we'll go see your grandfather in a minute. First you look as though you could use something to eat. Come along."  
  
Beth followed the lady into the house, a wondrous expression on her cherubic face. This house had lots of old stuff, just like Daddy liked. Her house was new. It had lots of computers and holovids and other stuff like that. She liked those too, but this was more interesting. She gasped in surprise when they passed an open door and she happened to look inside. There were books in there! Real books! Daddy had started teaching her to read books, and she could read every sign she saw, even if she didn't know what it meant. Maybe Your Grandfather could teach her some more, like Daddy said he was going to.  
  
They soon came to a small kitchen, where the lady sat Beth at a table. Then she put a tray with something that looked like huge biscuits, and a glass of milk in front of her. Beth eagerly ate them and drank the milk. When she was finished, the lady wiped her mouth and hands, then led her to the room with all the books in it. In a corner, sitting in a large red chair, was an old man with bushy white eyebrows and white hair. He looked up at their entrance and smiled. Beth decided then and there she liked him. He had smiley eyes. The lady left the room quietly.  
  
"Well," the man said, "You must be Elizabeth hmm?"  
  
Beth nodded. "Uh huh, Elizabeth Marie Lestrade," she told him proudly, "And you must be Your Grandfather," she told him.  
  
The old man smiled again. "Yes, that's right, but you can call me Grandpa, or Gramps or whatever it is you wish to call me."  
  
"Okay, Grandpa. Can you teach me how to read? I really want to know how, so that when I see Daddy again he'll be proud of me."  
  
Grandpa's eyes grew sad then, and Beth wondered what she had said. "Your mother didn't tell you did she," he asked kindly.  
  
Beth frowned. "She wouldn't tell me anything about Daddy when I asked her."  
  
"Oh dear, I thought as much," Grandpa said. Then he got angry, and Beth was suddenly afraid he was mad at her, like Mommy always was.  
  
"I'm sorry, Grandpa, I won't ask about it anymore."  
  
"No child, it is not you I am angry with. It is your mother. Your father is dead," he said, his voice growing softer, "Do you understand what that means?"  
  
Beth nodded with tears in her eyes. Her puppy had died, and Daddy had said that that meant she would never be coming back. Then Beth ran over to Grandpa, and he held her in his arms, and she felt safe and loved again.  
  
The whole summer was fun. Grandpa taught her how to read, and how to do other fun stuff too. Then Mommy came to pick her up, and Grandpa convinced her to let Beth come visit every summer. It happened that way for four years, and then Mommy was killed by a raging boyfriend who had escaped the crypno process, and Beth's fondest wish came true. She was being allowed to live with her Grandpa.  
  
  
A/N: Yeah, I know, it doesn't really make much sense yet, but it will, I promise.  



	2. Captured

A/N: Thank you Galadriel for the critical analysis. It's really helpful, and I hope I can follow your advice ^_^.   
  
  
Chapter One: Captured  
  
New London, 2105  
  
Inspector Beth Lestrade waited quietly in the shadows, watching the two figures moving about under the glow of the streetlights outside an old warehouse in the industrial district. She fingered the weapon at her hip, an ionizer, but did not pull it out. She took her gaze from the two and looked back into the shadows, then made a sound of frustration. Where was he? A loud crash brought her attention back to the figures. One of them had knocked the other into the outer wall of the warehouse and was now proceeding to pummel him. Lestrade made her decision then. Holmes or no Holmes she was going out there.  
  
As she stepped out of the shadows, she heard a movement from behind her, and whirled around. A large, muscular man stood reaching out for her. She took the hand that reached out to grab her, and used it as leverage to twist the entire arm behind the man's back. This gave her maneuvering room to get his other arm behind his back as well. She then proceeded to pull her handcuffs out and place them around his wrists. She stepped back to admire her handiwork, when she felt a sharp pain explode in her head. Then she knew no more.  
  
  
When Lestrade awoke, she groaned at the throbbing pain shooting through her head. Through shuttered lids, she could tell she was in some kind of light, the brightness of which made her head ache worse despite her eyes being closed. After waiting a few minutes she slowly opened her eyes, keeping them averted from the light source. After letting them adjust, she began to look around the room she was in, ignoring the pain in her head. She was laying on a hard concrete floor in the middle of a circular room, which was empty except for a mirror that ran the whole length of the round cell.   
  
"Finally awake, Inspector?" a warm, elegantly accented voice asked.  
  
Lestrade growled at the sound of the voice, while cursing herself for her carelessness. It was a voice she had groan to loathe hearing since the first time she heard it two years ago. "What do you want with me Moriarty?" she demanded, "Besides the obvious of wanting revenge I mean." She looked around to see where the voice could possibly be coming from, and then decided that the mirror must be two way, with an intercom device underneath.  
  
"Why, Inspector," Moriarty said, actually sounding wounded, "I have brought you here to be my guest. Surely you can show some manners as such."  
  
"Stow it, clone-head," she told him, "And give me a straight answer."  
  
The voice changed to become cold and cruel. "A straight answer? Very well. I am conducting an experiment. I want to see if Holmes cares more for you, or for the thrill of solving a difficult problem."  
  
"Moriarty, you have got to be the most deranged psychopath I have ever come across," Lestrade told him, disgust evident in her tone. She had a feeling which the great detective would choose. No matter how good of friends they had become in the two years she had known him, the case came first.  
  
Moriarty merely chuckled. "Afraid you already know what the outcome of this little experiment will be? No matter. If you behave yourself, I shall let you out of that room and into a more comfortable one."  
  
"I'd rather stay here thank you very much, than take any sort of 'comfort' you may have to offer," she spat out, miffed that he had guessed her thoughts.  
  
Again Moriarty's voice grew cold. "I see. Enjoy your stay then."  
  
Lestrade waited to see if he would say anymore. When the silence lasted for several minutes, she gingerly sat up, fighting waves of dizziness. She then leaned forwards on her hands and dragged herself over to a wall, where she leaned back against it. Her eyes closed of their own accord, and she drifted off into a fitful slumber, with snatches of the past dancing in her mind.  
  
She awoke some time later, after a vivid dream of watching a figure being swept from the deck of a ship into a stormy sea, and of another figure jumping in after it. Sometime during her sleep, someone had put a plate of food in the center of the room, a pillow had been placed under her head, and she had been covered with a blanket. She cursed her injury that had caused her to be less alert than she usually was, and threw the pillow and blanket away from her. She stood up then, and began pacing the room, ignoring the food. With no other stimuli, her mind began to drift back to the past.  
  
  
Beth sat in the classroom, a bored expression on her face, as the teacher went over programming techniques. She had already learned all this, by teaching herself. Indeed, she could hack into any system at any given time and not get caught. Of course, she only did it when the need arose. Like when all those businessmen had suddenly become millions of creds richer, with no apparent source. They had been embezzling, though no one could prove it, until she had found the electronic traces left behind. The police didn't know who gave them tips like that, only that it was some sort of modern day Robin Hood.  
  
The final bell rang, and Beth gratefully left the school. She walked down the street to an old library, one that had real books instead of the holo versions, which weren't nearly as good as the real thing. They didn't leave enough to the imagination. She stepped inside the ancient oak doors and walked to her favorite corner and sat down in a comfortable armchair. She set her backpack down by her feet and opened it, pulling out a much worn book. She ran her fingers lightly over the cover, touching the words, "John H. Watson", then opened it and began reading.  
  
"Excuse me miss?" a high pitched voice asked.  
  
Beth looked up from her book, then had to look down to see the source. It was a little boy with blond hair, big wide blues eyes, and a pert little nose. He didn't look to be older than five years old, and Beth felt protective instincts well up in her. She had always been protective of little kids, though she didn't know why.  
  
"Yes?" she responded, "How may I help you?"  
  
The little boy bit his lip, then he asked, "Could you help me read this? There's a lot of hard words in it." He held aloft a thick book bound in red leather. Beth leaned forward to read the title, 'The Lord of the Rings.' She smiled and put Dr. Watson's journal away.  
  
"Sure I will," she assured the boy, "That's my favorite book in the whole world." And it was. She felt a connection with this book, almost as if she had been there herself, only in a vague way. The boy smiled, transforming his serious face into one that a child his age should be wearing. "This is a long book, you know," she told him, "It's actually three books in one. Do you want me to read it to you, or do you want to read it yourself with me helping you with the words?"  
  
"Read it to me please," he said, "Then I'll try and read it myself." He then handed her the book and climbed up into her lap. Once he settled, she opened the book, and started reading out loud. "When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating......"  
  
They did this everyday for a month, which was how long it took to read the whole thing. She didn't know the boy's name, nor did he know hers, but names weren't necessary. Generally while she read to him, other people would come up to listen, and would often get caught up in the fascinating fantasy, until, it was to a large group of people that she read. After she had finished the trilogy, the group became agitated, wanting to hear more about Hobbits and wizards and Elves. Beth smiled and promised she would bring The Hobbit from home the next day as the library didn't have it.  
  
The next day after school, she waited at the library for the little boy to show up. When he didn't, she declined to read, not wanting him to miss out. As she started to leave, a woman with a concerned expression came into the library and walked over to her.  
  
"Excuse me, but are you the one who reads the stories?" the woman asked her.  
  
"Yes, but I'm not reading today," Beth answered.  
  
"Oh, well, do you know a little blond hair boy?"  
  
Beth nodded, wondering where this was going, and had a horrible feeling of premonition.  
  
"I'm his mother, and..." the woman stopped and broke off into sobs. Beth instantly put her arms around her shoulders to give what comfort she could, while hoping the worst had not happened.  
  
"I...I'm sorry," the woman said softly, "It's just that...he was so lively, and intelligent, and now...he'll never walk, or hear, or talk again."  
  
Beth frowned. "What do you mean? What's happened."  
  
"He was riding with his father when another hovercar crashed into them. My husband came away unscathed, but my baby..." The woman broke off again, "I just wanted to thank you for giving my boy some entertainment, and to inform you about this." She walked out of the library, leaving a stunned Beth behind.  
  
When Beth went home that evening, she avoided her grandfather, knowing he would be able to tell something was wrong, and she didn't want to talk about it now. How she wished she had asked the boy's name, then maybe she could visit him, but it was too late for that. She lay upon her bed, silent tears running down her face. To never be able to hear, speak or walk. That had to be the hardest thing. 'At least he'll be able to read,' she told herself, 'That's something.'  
  
  
Lestrade was brought abruptly back to the present by a cackling laugh. "Hello, little Yardie," a voice with a slight French accent said, "Did you like my master's surprise?"  
  
"Shut up Fenwick. You're just a pawn you know. When he no longer has use for you, he'll throw you out like yesterday's garbage."  
  
"Fenwick!" Moriarty exclaimed sharply, "What are you doing in here?"  
  
"N..nothing Master, just talking with the Yardie."  
  
"Well, go on and do what I've told you. The 'yardie' is not to be spoken to by anyone but me."  
  
Lestrade listened to the exchange with amusement, then she became angry. "Moriarty, you will get your comeuppance one day, no matter what."  
  
"And you will not be around to see it, whether Holmes comes here or not," Moriarty told her, "Now, have you changed your mind about a more comfortable setting?"  
  
She ignored him and sat down again by the wall. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of a spoken answer.   



End file.
